When Barbie's Away, The Hybrid Will Play
by CorruptedBarbie
Summary: Caroline is away for the evening. Elena decides to enact one of her sinful fantasies. Will Klaus be receptive? RATED M FOR A REASON. (Originally a one-shot, now expanded- plans for a sequel)
1. Wake-Up Call

_Author's Note: A thoroughly AU RP solo converted into a one-shot fanfic. **Serious smut. **Reviews are appreciated. If this goes over well, I will continue to re-purpose old solos here._

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Having already made certain that Caroline would be occupied with Stefan's most recent relapse of self-control, I creep into the Mikaelson manor under the cover of darkness. With heightened supernatural senses, I uphold a stony facade as I maneuver through the residence with extreme caution to maintain the eerie silence of the night.

Coming here was most definitely a risk with potentially catastrophic consequences. But after spending the greater duration of my inhuman existence with my emotions turned off, I'd surmised that occasionally acting solely based on one's innermost desires has great benefits.

There's just something about him...

It's something I can't quite put my finger on... A certain type of allure... Drawing out all of my darkest desires... my depraved fantasies.

His ruggedly handsome features regularly haunt my dreams; the lusty aura of my subconscious recalling that one dreadful night with an opposing array of emotions.

The night of the ritual.

His strong limbs clasp around my slender frame, igniting a terrifying exhilaration to course through my bloodstream with their supportive embrace. Despite the agonizing fear pulsing through my veins with every frantic beat of my heart, his lips, full and soft, caress the smooth column of my neck to elicit an entirely different response...

The explosion of sensation as razor-sharp canines elongate to pierce the delicate flesh of my throat thrashes me awake **every** single time, in a sweaty, breathless mess.

At first I suspected that someone was manipulating my dreams for whatever reason; Lord knows, I've pissed off enough people to last several lifetimes. But after tortuously partaking in the consumption of vervain for many excruciating days, the tremendous nagging of my unconscious had persisted.

This morning, after rousing in a most-bothered and particularly disheveled state, I'd decided quickly that enough was enough. And thus far, everything has gone according to my haphazard plan.

Stefan had proven all too easy to lure back to the intoxicating haze of insatiable bloodlust. He really was proving to be easier and easier to manipulate as the days progress. Of course, his "sponsor", Caroline, had eagerly fulfilled her assitive duties by rushing to his aide.

She wouldn't be leaving Stefan's side tonight. Which means that Klaus would be sleeping without the company of his little blonde companion.

Slowly climbing the elaborate staircase towards the second floor of the home, I listen intently. My hearing quickly focuses on the rhythmic, steady breathing of the slumbering hybrid.

Quickening my pace a fraction, I move noiselessly down the hallway to the only room with signs of life inside. Hesitating for only a moment, my fingers linger upon the brass knob.

This could backfire all too rapidly.

Klaus is loyal to Caroline and my advances could easily be shut down in one way or another. But there's also the great possibility that they wouldn't be - and that fact alone is the driving force in my following actions.

With a final deep, steadying breath, I push my way into the bedroom.

The view displayed before me is positively breathtaking; the exquisite form of none other than Niklaus Mikaelson, the infamous Original hybrid, sprawled out peacefully atop an extravagant bed. Moonlight dances across the ivory-toned skin of his bare chest; the illumination flickering my gaze downwards to where silk sheets lay bunched dangerously low on his hips.

Blunted pearls tug anxiously at the soft tissue of my bottom lip as I slip off my shoes, moving quietly towards the bed.

With slow, daring movements, I ease myself onto the mattress, positioning myself carefully between his legs. Bracing my hands on either side of his sleeping form for additional balance, I bring my lips to the enticing skin of his lower abdomen.

Scattering a few leisure kisses along the well-defined planes of his torso, I begin to inch the sheet downwards, exposing more of his perpetually flawless physique bit by bit.

Summoning my courage, I glide the tip of my tongue along each hipbone consecutively, holding my breath nervously in anticipation of his reaction.

The undisturbed breathing from above assures me that he's fast asleep, but the evidence of his arousal still surfaces.

With skillfully soft and gentle movements, expert digits brush atop his hardening length through the thin material of his boxer briefs until it strains noticeably against the fabric.

Apprehension looms upon me as I cautiously lower the only remaining barrier between us. The slight stirring from above my head alerts me that my stimulating actions were beginning to wake the tranquil Original.

It's too late to back out now; it's now or never.

Lightly gripping the base of his shaft, I guide the tip to my lips, smooth brims immediately encompassing the head.

A sharp gasp flied from Klaus' lips, signalling his return to consciousness. Talk about a wake-up call.

With coffee-tinted hues locked diligently upon his scrunched features, I swirl my tongue once before taking him deeper into the warm, inviting cavity of my mouth. Klaus' eyes are clenched tightly shut as unknowing digits blindly seek out my hair to encourage the undeniably pleasing actions.

Almost as soon as the wandering fingertips thread into chestnut locks, his eyes fly open with prominently displayed shock.

Not permitting him a chance to speak the first word, greatly due to the fear that I could be rejected, skilled digits replace my lips, slowly stroking from base to tip. Before voicing anything, I shake my head from side to side in response to an un-asked question, "Caroline will never know. You have my word, Klaus."

Without waiting for a verbal response, I place one hand upon his lower stomach in an unspoken request to remain still as I return luscious petals to their desired task.

My lips move at a feverish pace, my tongue gliding smoothly against the sensitive flesh in an undisguised attempt to ease and erase any lingering hesitation.

When his hands return to my head with a directive embrace and his hips begin to rise up off the mattress to thrust more and more of his length into my welcoming mouth, I hum with satisfaction. With his open encouragement, I redouble my efforts, fully intent upon bringing him as much pleasure as possible.

My tongue dances across every delicious inch of flesh, leaving glistening trails in its wake. Once again permitting my fingertips to wrap around his remarkable length, they move in unison with my lips at an ever-quickening pace.

The rapid acceleration of his breathing and increasingly frenzied movements warn me of his impending release.

Skirting my gaze towards his, chocolate optics lock with penetrating azures as I slowly engulf as much of his shaft as possible between my lips, relaxing my throat furthermore to accommodate his continued upwards thrusts.

His orgasm hits with an unexpected force.

A stream of obscenities flies from his mouth in that incredibly attractive accent as his grasp within silken strands becomes painfully tight. Every muscle in his body tenses with impossible rigidity as his essence spills deep within my throat.

Allowing him to guide my ministrations until his grip loosens and his body falls limp, his breathing is rough, ragged, and shallow as he rides out the remainder of this euphoric high.

Only when a thoroughly contented sigh breaks free of his lips do I permit my own to release his length, flicking my tongue against the still-weeping tip in a teasing manner before emitting an almost nervous giggle.

An uncertain smile colors rosy brims as I crawl up his satiated silhouette, pressing a light kiss upon his lips before whispering, "It's our little secret... But if you want to continue... you know how to find me..."

Without another word, I move silently off the bed, pausing only momentarily to retrieve my shoes from the floor and blow a kiss over my shoulder before disappearing off into the night.

He would come find me... I'm absolutely certain of it.


	2. Rude Awakening

Author's Note: I feel like this chapter is lacking something, but I'm troubled to pinpoint what... (Mini-spoiler alert?) The next chapter will be drafted soon and it will contain both characters much more evenly (as I think that may simply be what this lacked). Anyways give it a read, and a review if you're feeling extra nice. And as always, **SERIOUS SMUT.**

The majority of this is paraphrased from an older piece I'd written, modified slightly to fit this set of characters, so the style may be slightly different than the first chapter. - Enjoy!

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After the adventurous rendezvous only a few nights prior, I can't seem to get him off my mind.

Niklaus Mikaelson. The infamous, corrupt, and unjust self-enthusiast. The master of deception, headstrong leader of unruly hybrids, and bearer of pain and tragedy.

Consciously, I know this lethal attraction is irrational, reckless even... but I find myself irrevocably drawn to the danger, inexplicably enticed with his darkness. Nothing else matters apart from the positively sinful, immorally delectable feelings that pulse through my body when my thoughts drift to him.

And as infuriating as it is, I can't get the damn man off my mind. Whereas previously, his presence had been mostly restricted to my unconscious fantasies, the reality of having him laid out before me had unknowingly granted unlimited access to my waking thoughts as well.

It's like he's a drug; addictive in nature and intoxicating in experience. Now that I've had a taste, I **have** to have more.

With every lull in casual conversation, during each dull, uninteresting classroom lecture, in pretty much **any** given moment spent avidly occupied, the image of his face flickers to the forefront of my mind. The sensational vision of his features contorted with euphoric pleasure, a light sheen of sweat coating his forehead as he gasps for each breath, his body writhing atop the wrinkled bed-spread with his rapid undoing.

It never fails to leave me breathless. At times I can almost **feel** his powerful grip in my hair... taste his exotic flavor upon my lips...

Since that fateful night the already incessant dreams have only increased in both frequency and intensity, growing more persistent and vivid with each consecutive occurrence. There is not a solitary moment of the day (or night) that I can truly evade the infringing notions; claim can be made to neither ignorance nor innocence in concern to the continually increasing desire. It's a gnawing hunger, a deep, primal ache that only /he/ can soothe.

It's single insecure fear of rejection that refrains me from seeking out his company once again. He knows how to find me... The self-assured certainty I'd left his residence with has dwindled significantly with each passing day, permitting an underlying layer of doubt to take root.

By the fifth evening with no sight nor sign of the almighty Original, I fall victim to a sea of uncertainty, questioning my judgement and wondering if I'd mistaken how receptive he'd been. Unable to divert or distract myself in any other fathomable way, I surrender my sins and worries to the closest bottle of tequila. The alcohol provides a necessary solace; the drunken haze taking the twinging edge off my senses and offering a unique comfort that finally permits dormancy to persevere.

Sleep differs immensely from the calm, peaceful slumber I'd once known, coercing my fitful frame back to consciousness in an undeniable, un-sated, perpetually proliferating state of wanton arousal.

A strangled cry of utmost frustration fills the vicinity as I'm torn from my slumber mere moments too soon yet /again/. Agitated digits bunch fist into the suffocating comforter, furiously throwing it from my perspiring silhouette in a childish act of indignation as I struggle to even my erratic breathing.

Too incredibly worked up to resume conventional nighttime activities, I rise from my bed with obvious reluctance, exhaustion weighing heavily upon my fatigued frame. If I don't get some sort of rest or relief soon, I'm either going to collapse or spontaneously combust... possibly both.

Padding silently towards the paned glass across the room, I push open the window with a small sigh of poignancy. The tranquil breeze fans across sweaty skin, offering diminutive comfort. Discontent is written plainly across bleary features as I return to the sanctity of my bed; slipping beneath the sheets alone as I make another futile effort to clear the chaos from my mind.

The only sounds within earshot are the quiet rustling of leaves from just outside the open window and my own shallow breaths; the eerie stillness of the blanketing darkness doing nothing to subdue the vehement longing that wreaks mayhem on both my mind and my body.

Anxious to appease my steadily rising temperature, I quickly arrive at the easy decision to shed my pajamas, certain that the thin cotton sheets would feel much more permeable without the excess layers beneath. Desperate to successfully ignore the rapidly growing flames of desire that threaten to singe my wavering self control and potentially reclaim a peaceful slumber, a debased hope materializes; that undressing may actually aide in this mission instead of simply fanning the already rampant fire.

Suspecting also, that loosening the gentle tension bestowed upon my scalp may prove helpful in my journey of relaxation, I lightly tug the hair-tie from chocolate locks, allowing long tresses to cascade freely across the bare flesh of my upper back and shoulders with a teasing, feather-light sensation.

Hitching a thumb into either side of my sleep-shorts, nimble movements guide the flimsy material down my legs, the gentle friction upon my thighs causing my breath to catch in my throat as they land upon the floor. Without leaving another moment to chance, agile fingertips peel the skin-tight spaghetti strap from my torso, pulling it over my head with ease and flinging it somewhere across the shadow-laden room. The drastic contrast between the chilling breeze of midnight air and hyper-sensitive, feverish flesh cause my nipples to harden to rigid peaks almost instantaneously.

This is doing absolutely fucking **nothing** to assist my rather vain endeavor to disregard these overpowering primal urges.

A soft sigh of disdain escapes slightly parted petals as I shift uncomfortably beneath the thin covering resting lightly atop my body. The smooth material generates a nearly electrifying reaction against the creamy surface of my skin, somehow managing to amplify my already unkempt desire to an ultimate height.

"Fuck this," my voice resonates much more loudly than originally intended in the otherwise silent house; the gradually weakening grasp I'd maintained upon my remaining resolve finally crumbling into nothingness. By this point, it's more than plainly evident that my body will **not** be denied the release it appears to so desperately crave; and with no indication of Klaus making an appearance anytime soon, the matter falls to my less capable hands - literally.

All-too-familiar fingertips ghost up along my ribcage to my chest, lightly caressing each nipple before cupping and palming the full swell of both breasts. Blunted pearls graze my lower lip to quiet the hushed moan that spills forth at the pleasing perception of the erotic touch. Heavily-lidded eyes flutter closed to relish in the exhilarating sensation coursing throughout my bloodstream with every subsequent beat of my undead heart.

Unable, unwilling, and un-**wanting** to deny my body's silent screams for any longer, one hand skates down my flowing curves to trace along the waistband of the lacy undergarment. The fabric is already damp with compelling evidence of my heightened state of arousal; an arousal that can no longer be denied.

Skilled digits inch beneath the tiny scrap of material, ever so lightly gliding over my glistening sex and causing my sweaty, breathless form to writhe frantically beneath the insignificant cotton barrier with agonizing anticipation. In a heated fluster, the sheets are furiously kicked from my slender outline; burning flesh meets the tepid late-night air with a sharp, searing sting that ignites the internal inferno furthermore with a slight jolt.

With a confident persona of boldness and new-found determination, I avidly pursue a thoroughly satisfying end to these torturous longings. One solitary fingertip dips between drenched folds, easily locating the source of my current innermost desires with quick precision. With my breathing expelled in rapid, ragged gasps, blunt teeth sink more forcefully into the soft tissue of my plump bottom lip, venturing to silence the sounds of pleasure pressing to break free.

Increased desperation. A completely consuming, all powerful **need** for release causes my ministrations to quicken significantly, focusing every fiber of my being on the electric shocks of bliss that radiate from my core, throughout my entire body. I set a ruthless pace; the tantalizing taunt of euphoria looming just beyond an out-stretched reach.

Rolling first one nipple, then the other, between my thumb and forefinger with just enough pressure to be painfully pleasurable, that hand proceeds to travel downwards towards the other and immediately thrusts two slender digits within the hot entrance of my molten core. My hands work in a synchronized unison that swiftly breaks barriers, sending me spinning into a seemingly endless oblivion of sheer ecstasy.

My fingers mercilessly continue their sinful assault on my senses through each new wave of pleasure, the satisfying ripples of my climax causing my body to unconsciously thrash and writhe in a frenzy atop the mattress. Short, raspy breaths escape my lips as my orgasm reigns authority over my entire being.

My actions begin to slow to a stop, granting a fraction more control over the evenness of my accelerated breathing. A loud, breathy sigh of relief and gratification surpasses smooth brims as they curve upwards into a somewhat satiated smile; a light chill dances across my bare flesh, resulting in the sheets being drawn back atop my mostly exposed form.

Instantly freezing mid-motion, every muscle in my body tenses rigidly as a dark shadow in the corner of my vision catches my frightened attention. Somebody had witnesses that. Grateful for the encompassing cover of darkness as a deep flush of embarrassment colors my cheeks, mocha hues remain locked on the door frame of my bedroom as the familiar silhouette slowly comes into focus.

Genuine surprise and more than just a hint of self-consciousness play across shocked features as I assess the sight before me, finally locating my voice in a barely audible whisper, "Klaus?"


	3. Payback's a Bitch

Author's note: This is the first time I've really written from a male perspective, but I thought it prudent to the story… So read, enjoy, and review maybe? Thanks in advance… and as always, **SMUT WARNING**.

Also, this fic has received better views and stats than I had ever intended, and the encouragement has inspired a sequel fic that will be more in depth and potentially quite a bit longer than this one. If you're interested in reading, make sure to keep your eyes peeled as I only have one, /maybe/ two, chapters remaining in this.

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In the blink of an eye, my entire life had changed.

After such a sudden and unexpected encounter, she'd managed to get under my skin; a near constant intruder of my thoughts. The world as I knew it had been turned upside down in the matter of a single night… And there's not a damn thing I can do to forget.

In the heat of the moment, it had proven seemingly impossible to put an end to her lustful actions; the undeniable pleasure and exceptionally divine torture succeeding to overpower the sheer concept of rational thinking. The only thing that mattered was the exquisite brunette beauty hovering over top of me… her tender touches sending electric shivers throughout every inch of my body… the warm, humid breath that caressed sensitive flesh before silken petals fueled with dedicated determination effortlessly guided my rapid undoing.

As quickly as it had begun, she was gone… the only evidence of her unannounced visit being the glistening sheen of sweat still covering my forehead as rough, ragged breaths slowly begin to even. A most contented hum surpasses pale brims, my fingertips tracing their path as the lingering sensation of her lips upon my own washes over me. With my body raging with warring emotions and desires, and my mind a barely contained source of chaotic mayhem, heavy eyelids droop shut, succumbing to a deep sleep once again.

Awakening the next morning to the familiar sounds of my favorite baby vampire bustling about downstairs in a flurry of morning activities, a genuine smile immediately graces my lips… until the vivid imagery of the previous night overwhelm my senses with an almighty guilt.

Caroline. My little blonde distractions. The only one in a thousand years to see the **real** me and stand by my side, regardless. The single soul that taught an unfeeling heart to love again… to forgive my indiscretions and accept me just as I am, flaws and all.

What the **fuck** have I done?!

Last night was a mistake- a monument error and decision made in poor judgment; in over a millennium of life, it is my solitary regret. How could I be so easily manipulated by the Salvatore-smitten, danger-addicted, holier-than-thou, persistent pain-in-my-ass Elena Gilbert is beyond my comprehension. Furthermore, joining the perpetually multiplying mysteries is **why **she'd taken such a risk in the first place. It was completely out of character; she's supposed to be busy choosing the wrong brother or something, isn't she?

Forcing the complexities from the forefront of my mind, I cloud the controversial thoughts with a haze of denial, attempting to convince my guilty conscience that it had all been a dream.

But it **hadn't** been a dream, and in the sequential days, it proved more difficult to evade the nagging truth. I'd fought the thoughts, urges, desires in every way imaginable… Sought to drown them in both blood and booze… Took solace and reassurance in the near-constant company of my bewitching blonde companion… Unleashed the inner-turmoil onto canvas… Anything to distract myself... And none of it worked.

I have to put an end to this; it **has **to stop.

With Caroline dragging a very reluctant Sheriff Forbes to some relaxation mother-daughter getaway, I'm forced to spend the weekend alone… a powerless victim to my thoughts. Try as I might to ignore them, deny them, or suppress them, they always return- growing more pressing each time. Questing a resolution, the empty glass in my hand shatters as it lands upon the shadow-laden hearth, and I depart the premises immediately, without a second thought or backwards glance.

Journeying towards the boardinghouse with inhuman ease, the omnipresent blanket of nighttime skies doesn't serve as the welcome distraction I'd hoped it would be. Pausing at the edge of the property, keen senses observe the unnatural stillness and inclusive silence diligently; not even a single light remains lit within the mansion. Perhaps she's not even at home?

Before the possibility can even truly formulate, I'm torn from my endless stream of consciousness by none other than my **own** name piercing the eerie silence. Elena…?

With unnerved suspicion, lightning speed brings me within the Salvatore home, moving noiselessly up the staircase towards the origin of the young female's unexplained cry. Approaching the open doorway, heightened perception notes the exasperated sigh falling freely from her lips as she rises from the bed. Freezing in my tacks, I remain perfectly statuesque until the slight creak of the window opening and her irritated muttering meets my ears.

Her self-chastising proves most amusing. Elena had been dreaming… about **me**. Clearly I wasn't the only one with residual effects from her daring little exploit. With no real plan devised, I edge my way closer to the door frame, completely unprepared for the sight to meet my eyes.

The skimpy sleepwear that surely clothed her slender frame mere moments beforehand is being tossed to the floor, piece by piece; nimble hands running the length of her body in slow, sensual movements. Her labored breathing causes my own to hitch as I stand fixated, mesmerized by her unnatural beauty. The sounds, scent, and sight of her undeniable arousal captivate me entirely.

I find myself unable to tear my gaze from her impressive silhouette, thrashing wildly atop the patterned bedspread. As her self-serving actions bring her closer and closer to her intended demise, my growing hardness strains painfully against the offensive material of my jeans. Images of her sinful beauty reign terror on my thoughts… her perfect lips wrapped around my rigid length… the unfathomable desire swimming in mocha tints… the alluring way she writhes atop the covers, her back arching off the bed as she finally crests the heavenly threshold of gratifying bliss…

"Klaus..?" she queries, pulling me back to reality.

An unseen gravitational pull beckons me forward into the room; a mischievous smirk etched upon smooth brims and a hungry stare emanating from glacial hues. Without speaking a word, slow, certain steps lead my form to the foot of her bed, surveying optics never leaving her emotion-filled features. Self-consciousness taints her expression for only a moment before nervous apprehension and anxious anticipation prevail.

After the past few days of agonizing torture, there **must** be recompense. **No one** gets the upper hand on Niklaus Mikaelson; at least not for long… Especially not this little doe-eyed vixen of a doppelganger. The time has come for a necessary revenge… for payback.

With elevating unease, her fingertips begin to inch the sheet upwards to shield her curvaceous outline from my daunting gaze. Strong hands instantly tear the linens from her grasp, throwing them clear across the room before swiftly covering her naked body with my own. Even through the barrier of my clothes, the heat radiating between us is almost too much to bear. Pinning her hands above her head, soft petals taunt at her earlobe, "Not so fast, love."

Bracing myself above her with the restrictive grasp on her seemingly delicate wrists, my free hand dances along the bare flesh of her side before coming to rest securely at her hip. Depth-less lust shimmers within sultry, chocolate orbs as I watch the gorgeous display of sin and wanton behaviors beneath me with an astonished appreciation. Dragging my lips down the delicious column of her neck, I revel in the vicious array of sensation coursing throughout my frame with an almighty fury.

Growling against her skin, a powerful grip hitches her leg higher around my waist, the evidence of my own arousal grinding intentionally against the molten heat of her center, providing a much-needed friction between us. Having her squirming form beneath my own, passion filling her eyes and desire lacing each breathless gasp, only fans the flames of fate. My fingertips trail across sporadic expanses of exposed flesh, finally reaching one breast with a firm and possessive squeeze.

Alternating between a series of light kisses, gentle nips, and teasing sucking motions, my lips find the shell of her ear once more. "Turn about is fair play…" accented tones whisper playfully.

Releasing her hands, silk-like lips wander lower, tasting the olive-toned skin of her chest. As my mouth closes around one nipple, skilled digits quickly locate the other pebbled bud, rolling it between them with a near painful pressure. My tongue swirls around the hardened peak, taking great pleasure in the way her body arches into mine before continuing on to the other. As I lave undivided attention to every possibly inch of flesh, I permit one hand to slip between us, a haughty smirk claiming my lips as it reaches the apex of her thighs.

A single fingertip traces the outline of her slit, coating itself in the slick moisture already pooled there and earning a desperate sigh of pent up frustration.

A sardonic chuckle escapes my lips as they venture further, laying a nonsensical pattern of various attentions across her heaving chest and downwards atop the smooth surface of her abdomen. With my intentions vividly clear and undisputed, warm breath and light stubble tickle the soft skin of her lower stomach; oceanic depths locked upon her angelic features as one finger slowly dips between drenched folds.

When I'd left home to 'put an end' to the intrusive daydreams and magnifying fantasies plaguing my subconscious, this **definitely** wasn't what I'd envisioned… and inevitably, here we lay.

With her breathing increasingly erratic and her body never allowed to fully recover from her earlier release, her frame quivers beneath my own, each subtle gesture perceived with her intensified senses. Teasing her entrance with the tip of one finger, her hips rise slightly from the mattress, indicating her eager impatience.

Forcing her still upon the bed once more, my skilled touch moved to swiftly locate the tiny bundle of nerves with keen precision. Alternating between slow, soft, sensual circles, and a faster pace, both more determined and more directive, it's only a matter of moments before whimpers begin to part from her withering frame; my name but a prayer forming upon her lips.

The expressions playing across her face and the constant clenching and un-clenching of her fingers into fabric provide an unnecessary ego boost as I bring her to the precipice of her demise once more… before removing my touch completely.

The abrupt lack of attention causes her eyes to fly open; coffee-tinted orbs flashing furiously to my own fierce stare. Keeping my gaze fixed upon hers, I lower my face between her legs with deliberate slowness, throwing the slender limbs over my shoulders.

The faint grasp on my self-control loosens further as she shifts her hips impatiently, the heat of my breath washing over her damp sex with a spine-chilling nearness. Darting my tongue out to wet my lips with growing anticipation, I slip first one, then two long fingers inside the warm, wet cavity; a feral growl rumbling lowly within my chest as smooth walls form a snug grip around the intruding digits. With Elena's breathless pleas becoming altogether more frantic, and my own need for relief significantly increased, I dip my head forward, a mutual sigh of contentment filling the air as the tip of my tongue traces her bare nether lips.

Impulse control becomes nothing more than a vague figment of my imagination as her entirely unique and truly delectable flavor enchants my supernatural senses; my only thoughts, motives, intentions all revolving around bringing the brunette beauty before me past the point of no return… After all, this is only fair.

Delving my tongue between soaked folds, it immediately seeks out that tiny nub that's sure to send ecstatic jolts of pleasure. Working with continually rising fervor, my fingers thrust relentlessly in and out of her dripping center; breathless moans fill the night air, growing louder and louder with my merciless ministrations of erotic sin.

Still worked up from her previous activities, it's not long before the telltale signs of her demise begin to appear; heavy lids drift closed, tight walls beginning to contract around my fingers, thoroughly ragged breathing becoming even more uneven. Sensing her inevitable release, blunt pearls lightly bite at the pinpoint of her euphoria, the painfully pleasurable shock jolting her eyelids open as I purr against her center, "Cum for me, Elena."

Under my commanding words, she crescendos beautifully, coming undone beneath the impenetrable stare of my insatiable gaze.

With my tongue and fingers working in precise synchrony, her frenzied grip finds my hair, dainty digit tugging forcefully at the sandy locks, desperate for **something** to hold on to. Aqua lenses remain locked upon her features, committing every imperceptible detail to memory. Her teeth tug at her lower brim, muffled moans still escaping the weak barrier as wave after wave of primal bliss crashes over her fragile form, depleting her of any and all remaining rational cognition.

With her heels digging mercilessly into my shoulder blades and urgent fingers pulling frantically at my hair, it's all I can do to not tear off my clothing and take her as mine right this very instant.

But patience is a virtue… and payback is a bitch.

As her sated form begins to settle upon the mattress once again, I flick my tongue across the overly-sensitized flesh one last time before finally leaning back onto my knees. Her chest is heaving with uneven gasps of air, her unkempt hair splayed around her face in a halo, her entire physique coated in a light perspiration, and her body still shaking from in unimaginable power of her orgasm. She's positively, sinfully, forbidden-ly beautiful.

Keeping her avid gaze occupied, I bring my fingertips to my mouth with intentionally slow movements, slipping them one at a time, between my lips and tasting the evidence of her climax once more and causing animalistic tendencies to nearly persevere.

With a dark, malevolent chuckle, I mirror her actions from the other night, pressing a light kiss to her awed lips before whispering the words, "Our little secret, love…" Departing the bedroom before I succumb to bestial instincts, my voice echoes behind me, "But if you want to continue…" 

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**Author's Note: Please bear with me for the next chapter; it's already drafted and the final chapter is partially written as well. I have been looking for a beta-reader and finally found one. She should have the update very soon to edit and I will post it as soon as possible. My apologies for the delay, but I figured if I'm gonna do this, I might as well do it right. (;**

I have also constructed a detailed summary of a MUCH longer sequel to follow this fic which will be started without delay once this is complete. 


	4. When Fate Comes Calling

**Author's Note: I apologize profusely for the delay in update, but I had attempted to find a beta-reader before posting. I didn't end up having much luck- so if anyone knows of someone or would be interested in beta-reading the final chapter of this, and perhaps even my planned sequel fic, please send me a PM.**

**This is my first attempt at writing back and forth in the third person (one of the main reasons I require a beta- a lot of these techniques are new to me as an author) so please: read, review, etc. Feedback is much appreciated.**

**And as always... SMUT WARNING.**

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Elena lay in bed for what seemed like hours, but in reality was probably only a few long minutes after Klaus' abrupt and spontaneous departure.

She might've convinced herself that this recent turn of events was nothing more than another of those impossibly vivid dreams- a borderline hallucination of sorts, but her skin still seared from his scorching touch, soft features positively glowing from the intensity of such a powerful orgasm… A release she most certainly hadn't been able to achieve with a solo act, no matter how valiantly she could've tried.

A sigh of mixed emotions slipped past pallid lines, inherently shattering the blanketing silence that surrounded her.

Slowly pushing herself up and off the mattress, shaky limbs carried her slightly unsteady silhouette throughout the surprisingly sparse interior of her bedroom, gathering the scattered clothing and bedding from wherever it had landed across the sleek hardwood floor. After retrieving the various strewn articles, the conflicted brunette carelessly tossed them atop the bed, collapsing astride the wrinkled heap and drawing the sheet loosely around her slim waist.

Laying on one side, smooth fingertips brushed the plump petals of her lips in a state of awe; chocolate optics locked upon the empty doorframe of the bedroom where she'd first spotted Klaus, as taunting accents echoed relentlessly in her mind, 'But if you want to continue…'

That conceited, manipulative, little shit. The man was pure evil… bottled sin; indulge too freely and you're bound to become addicted… willing to let it consume you from the inside out.

Adrenaline still coursed throughout undead veins, proving it especially difficult to regulate her totally unnecessary breaths. Mahogany hues, alight with fierce determination, burn into the wood-grain of the room's entrance, scrutinizing the area for any indication of the foreboding shadow that had lingered there but minutes beforehand.

Just when she'd all but convinced herself that Klaus wouldn't seek out her company on his own… She'd even begun to question her oral skill and silently criticize her technique with the growing self-doubt… And then he'd appeared. In the dead of night. Silently prowling through the Salvatore's property, masked completely within the dark shadows, and silently stopping solely to wordlessly observe her unabashed act of self-'love'.

Sleek little peeping Tom…

At the same time, credit where credit's due; the hybrid was sly, his behaviors crude, shameless, and downright depraved… but he had more than fulfilled a desperate longing… soothing the persistent ache that had been screaming his name for much too long already.

Though exhaustively satisfied, she came to the sudden and conflicting realization that her body still yearns for his touch, his taste… for him. All-consuming desire blazes from sated embers to a fiery inferno of lust, unquenchable to any and all but the Original hybrid himself.

She's never quite felt this way about any one particular person before; with Stefan things had always been intimate, centered, controlled… Damon had been more electric, the untamed attraction and long-denied chemistry creating unthinkable new blissful highs… But with Klaus, it's just different.

Elena Gilbert has outwardly despised Niklaus Mikaelson since before he even set foot into Mystic Falls- and this crucial fact remains unwavering still. She harbors no feelings of love for the immortal Original, not even those of forgiveness. In her mind, his colorful history of innocent victims and heinous crimes is beyond redemption, his soul eternally damned. She loathes him for all that he's done.

And she craves him nonetheless.

She longs to have his perpetually flawless frame writhing beneath her, his rigid shaft thrusting with reckless abandon into her warm, accepting mouth… to feel the intensity of his gaze traveling brazenly across her flowing curves as she lays wanton, willing, ready… to re-live the delirious sensations the skilled hybrid effortlessly elicits as his tongue slips between silken folds, tasting her arousal while simultaneously increasing it ten-fold.

It's an unexplainable, unavoidable, gravitational force begging for acceptance- for relief. She wants to be dominated. Marked. Branded. She needs to be his in the most basic and primal of ways.

It's irrational.

It's dangerous.

It's verifiably psychotic.

And none of that matters.

Her subconscious seizes victory, solidifying the decision before she can even grasp or weigh the options. Fuck the guilt that will surely later accompany her selfish actions- the unspoken and yet unwavering pledged loyalty to Caroline, her so called 'best friend', isn't even factored into the equation. It can't be. This is beyond her control; she doesn't have a choice… And the ball's in her court.

* * *

The crisp air of the last hours before dawn offered a stinging contrast against the hybrid's feverish flesh, but it wasn't enough.

It had taken a great amount of self-control, self-control he didn't think he'd possessed, to tear himself from the truly stunning scene splayed so readily before him.

Elena Gilbert. The last Petrova doppelganger. The key to breaking the curse that had been sworn upon him for over a thousand agonizing years. His former walking bloodbag. Another fucking baby vampire.

Gasping for breath as she slowly returned from orgasmic bliss; thickly-lashed eyelids fluttering of their own accord, blind fingertips frantically grasping for anything within reach, and his name rasping from her lips…just a prayer swept away with the wind.

In that moment, he'd wanted nothing more than to ravish her whole; to discard his poorly constructed (and yet perfectly executed) plan of revenge, and simply just claim her.

He would take her again and again until her voice was hoarse from screaming his name and she begged for his mercy. He wished to forever ruin her for any other man; the surging testosterone rapidly rousing his dominant 'Alpha-male' tendencies. He could nearly taste the unforgettable nectar of her life's crimson essence dancing upon his tongue, intoxicating his senses in much the same way it had the first time he'd tasted her. The indigo-colored vein pulsing just beneath the flesh of her inner thigh was practically inviting the animalistic intrusion.

With hybrid features threatening to emerge, he'd managed to summon unfathomable restraint, restraint he'd previously been unaware of, and instead move sensually up her lithe frame, pressing a chaste kiss to confounded brims before making a swift and immediate exit.

Though the basic, primitive instincts to own, to possess, to quite simply take what he wanted nearly crumbled a millennium's worth of self-resolve and strategically planned impulse-control, a more logical thought process still broke free.

Payback was a necessary evil here.

She'd initially sought him out… taken advantage of his slumbering perception… and left him wanting more. That couldn't go without consequence.

The mere thoughts of the tantalizing little vixen had driven him absolutely wild, bringing him to the edge of insanity and voiding his mind of rational thought in unfair exchange for endlessly multiplying daydreams of her.

A savage growl slices through the brisk night air as he quickly distances himself from the unexplainable weakening of his resolve; superhuman agility proving incredibly useful with his waning patience.

The familiar scenery passes in a blur of insignificant details; each neighborhood residence appearing remarkably similar, one property visually blending into the next as he sprints at full-speed towards the outskirts of Mystic Falls.

Running. Fully reveling in one of those cherished and beloved supernatural abilities is exhilarating, proving to be a most useful and needed distraction. The tepid temperature of the Virginia breezes nip into his flesh, a light flush of physical and mental exertion coloring ivory-toned cheeks as he finally bursts through the large oak doors of the Mikaelson estate.

Hinges creak from the force, an audible stress against the grain of the wood as Klaus slams the door shut behind himself, instantly leaning his full weight against it in an ongoing effort to maintain the required restraint to not turn around and go back to Elena.

Groaning in frustration, his fingernails carve deep ruts, splintering the intricate woodwork framing the entryway; blunt, human teeth digging harshly into the tender tissue of his bottom lip.

Fuck! She'd really gotten under his skin this time…

But this time, he's equally to blame.

She's intoxicating… heavenly… a depraved, guilty pleasure that he wishes to indulge in again and again.

"Fucking hell!" he growls, the prominence of his aching erection still caged painfully within dark denims.

He can't explain the attraction, the allure, and it's beginning to drive him mad. Klaus doesn't take kindly to matters he cannot explain.

Breathing heavily in a tremendous effort to gather composure, and with his hands balled into tight fists, he quickly strides through the manor, kicking his boots off along the way. He treads the stairs two at a time, leaving a trail of clothing in his wake as he makes his way to the bathroom located within the master bedroom.

He needs a shower; a cold shower.

* * *

It wasn't a conscious decision. Fuck, it wasn't really a decision at all.

Once Elena had managed to regain some fortitude of balance, it was as if she moved on auto-pilot; mind and body totally despondent to one another.

While her actions were unhurried and seemingly detached as she donned her discarded pajamas, checked her complexion in the vanity mirror, and ran a comb through tangled tresses, the flurry of activity behind hazelnut orbs remained constant throughout.

Vivid flashes of memories colored her consciousness; visions of times come and passed joining forces with the debased fantasies and impure desires no longer dormant within,to create one hell of a lethal attraction.

She has to have him.

The engine of her vehicle silences at the end of his drive in record-breaking time. It's been perhaps twenty minutes since his lips last possessed hers, alcohol-laced breath mingling together, leaving her craving more, but it feels like it's been so much longer.

Despite the reassuring fact that Klaus had indeed taken the offered bait, her nerves still made an unwelcome appearance, setting a slightly apprehensive ambiance as she exits the car; somewhat unsteady limbs carrying her up the long driveway to the hybrid's home.

* * *

He should've heard her approaching. He should've heard her car switch off. He should've heard the decidedly slow paces that carried her up the weathered steps and across his front porch. He should've heard the sharp hitch in her bated breaths as she paused with her fingers upon the handle. He should've heard the quiet sounds of the front door of his home opening and then closing behind her.

But he'd heard none of it.

Pelting streams of crystalline droplets rained mercilessly down upon his naked form; the icy mist unfortunately failing to alleviate the feverish heat of his skin- the burning desire of passion budding from deep within.

His usually keen and pinpoint superior senses are dulled by the steady spatter of cold water against the smooth porcelain tile of his expansive bath. His mind is miles away- entranced with the painstakingly enticing beauty of the youngest doppelganger.

He feels the boiling blood racing throughout his masculine frame with each accelerated beat of his non-living heart. Each frantic thrum echoes loudly in his ears and proceeds to drown out the entirety of the world's existence. His head falls back, heavy lids falling shut over aqua-tinted irises as he succumbs to the thoughts waging war on his mind.

Imagination is both a powerful and dangerous tool, especially one with hundreds upon hundreds of years to ascertain its strength- its believability and accreditation.

The hands that skin across his toned physique, gliding smoothly with the silk-like water… they're hers. They're her dainty little digits sporadically brushing atop his flesh with a fiery touch that draws out short, ragged gasps as they move downwards with unspoken intentions.

A loud groan resonates around the room as confident fingertips finally grip his rigid length, slowly stroking from base to tip with deliberate ease and precision. Unrestrained moans fill the air as gentle caresses and tender touches abruptly increase in pace, fervently guiding the sexually frustrated hybrid to his long-awaited demise.

"Fuck… Elena…" Klaus breathes, her name sounding more like a growl than anything else.

* * *

Elena had fully anticipated that Klaus would undoubtedly hear her forthcoming arrival and meet her at the door. She hadn't thought more than a moment ahead all evening; but his absence at the door forced her to at last make a decision.

Pausing at the entrance, she heard the telltale sounds of a shower running full-blast somewhere in the upper level of the house. Smirking to herself, she wasted no time in letting herself into the newly familiar residence, much like her previous visit, tiptoeing silently up the stairwell.

'It couldn't be more perfect,' she thought to herself.

It was rather fitting, actually. Klaus had caught her in a most vulnerable position; coincidentally, she'd managed to catch him in a slightly compromising situation as well.

With a more confident spring in her step, she entered his shadow-filled bedroom; the light filtering through the open doorway to the adjoining room both guiding her steps and drawing her closer.

Attempting to block out the all-too-tempting visualization of the incredibly attractive Original showering only a few paces away, she paused to rest at the foot of his bed to slip off her shoes and socks.

The entire bedchamber was laced with his unique scent; its qualities proving themselves seductive and captivating in themselves. The enticing and familiar smell of his usual cologne lingered upon the fabric of the wrinkled bedspread, her gaze flitting towards the mattress in distinct recollection of their previous escapade.

A guttural groan pulls her from her thoughts and draws her closer to its origin. Her eyebrows raise with both amusement and surprise as her name passes his lips with evident frustration, raising a self-assured smirk to otherwise cherubic features.

She doesn't think as nimble fingers quickly pull the charcoal-colored tank top over her head, letting it fall noiselessly to the plush carpeting, her sleep-shorts and the scrap of fabric somehow classified as underwear soon to follow.

He wants her… maybe even as much as she wants him.

The time for games is over. No more cat-and-mouse nonsense, no more 'catch me if you can', no more waiting.

She came here with one purpose; one truly undeniable urge… and she can't wait or fight it any longer…

Though she'd been fully aware of what the hybrid had clearly been doing, nothing could have possibly prepared her for the earth-shattering sight she was about to witness as shaky digits slowly slide the door to his shower open, the last remaining barrier separating them instantly vanishing.

His eyes had been screwed shut, beaded water glistening with reflected illumination as it cascades over every inch of his body, toned muscles tensing beneath the smooth surface of his flesh as his hand fervently works the length of his shaft. Astonished azures fly open to an unbelievable sight; Elena Gilbert- the precise woman of his current daydreams, standing right here before him in all of her nude glory.

She meets his gaze almost shyly, finding herself suddenly speechless under his intense, hungry stare.

"Elena," he growls again, more clearly and intensely than before as he appreciatively surveys her curvaceous figure.

Midnight lenses glisten a fierce, shimmery gold; lightning-quick reflexes catching her wrist in an impenetrable grasp. Purplish veins instinctively surface with anticipated lust, discoloring his generally flawless, timeless features with the mask of the monster hidden within. Venomous fangs protrude from his gums with malevolent promise; his bruising grip on her wrist strengthening furthermore as he abruptly yanks her seemingly apprehensive form forward with no warning.

A horrified, shrill scream pierces the early morning air…


End file.
